


for no one but you

by nocturneatmidnight



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, it's soft I promise, mao accidentally gets cut with a knife, sort of a ride gl, these tags might not necessarily come in order, uhhhh sharp things imagery, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 23:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneatmidnight/pseuds/nocturneatmidnight
Summary: “Okay.” Mao took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs and counting from one to ten as slowly as he could manage. Then he exhaled, equally as slowly. He’d just climbed out of treacherous waters, made it to the port against all odds- the both of them had, really- and yet here he was, about to jump right into the deep end again.“Okay. If that’s so, then why are you still not looking at me?”
Relationships: Isara Mao/Sakuma Ritsu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	for no one but you

**Author's Note:**

> vampire ritsu woohoo

It was common knowledge that Mao wasn’t fond of sharp things.

He wasn’t _scared_ of them, per se, but he definitely preferred to avoid them. What had started out as a playful bite from Ritsu when they were kids had, at some point, spiralled into an undeniable distaste for anything with potential to tear into his skin, to bring with it a searing sting and seeping blood. He went as far as to alter his hairstyle to accommodate this distaste, clipping his hair up to keep his bangs from poking at his eyes. He hadn’t been sure about the new hairstyle at first, but then Ritsu had said he looked cute, so he supposed it was fine.

Despite whatever reservations Mao had about sharp objects, however, the universe wasn’t going to spontaneously blow up every blade and thorn in the world for his sake. So he learned to work around these things, simply being extra careful when handling them and- of course- not coming in contact with them at all, if possible.

Still, he couldn’t avoid sharp things forever, or even completely. Things as innocent as freshly printed paper could cut at his skin with their corners, and a splinter from a wooden railing could pierce into him just as easily. Tools like scissors and knives could also be brought into the equation- they were essential for jobs at school or at home, leaving Mao with nowhere to run. There was nothing to do but face these wretched items head-on, and because Isara Mao was nothing if not stubbornly determined when he wanted to be, that was what he would do. Who knew- maybe if he got cut and pricked enough times, he’d develop a resistance to sharp things and grow to not mind them at all. (Wishful thinking, truly.)

Which led him to where he was now- chopping up carrots with a sharp, gleaming knife before the Sakuma household’s kitchen counter. Being the only ones home for dinner, he and Ritsu had split up their cooking tasks the way they usually did. Mao took on the daunting task of chopping up garlic and carrots (Ritsu refused to go anywhere near the garlic, and Mao let him- it was already enough of a struggle getting him to include them in the meal), and Ritsu took care of everything else. Any sort of culinary act being Ritsu’s forte, the dark haired had full control over everything in the kitchen, and Mao was more than willing to give up his free will in response. Ritsu’s food always tasted _godly,_ after all.

Plus, well- it was Ritsu. Mao was more than willing to do a lot of things for him.

“Ah, I’d been meaning to ask,” came a slow, somewhat sleepy voice, and Mao turned his head to look at his boyfriend. Ritsu stifled a yawn as he entered the kitchen, tapping at something on his phone. He padded across the tiled floors near-soundlessly, and had he not announced his own arrival with a question, Mao might not have noticed him at all. “Did you get that manga you wanted today?”

Mao hummed in response, returning his attention to the carrots on his chopping board. “Got the latest volume after I finished stuff up at the student council.” There was a soft _hup_ and the sound of fabric against something behind him, and it was safe to assume that Ritsu had hopped up onto a countertop to sit. “The bookstore was pretty crowded, though. Full of girls talking about how _the_ Sakuma Rei is going to be performing with UNDEAD tonight, and how it’s going to be _sooooo-”_

“Mention that guy again and you’re not getting any dinner,” Ritsu said flatly, and Mao laughed. The threat was typical Ritsu, and while some people would be inclined to think differently, chances were that Ritsu wouldn’t _actually_ let Mao go without dinner. If anything, Ritsu was always trying to get Mao _to_ eat dinner, to not skip over meals in favour of working or practising. Ritsu was caring like that, though he’d probably never admit it aloud.

“Yeah, yeah. Because you definitely aren’t going to stream some of his live while I’m in the shower later,” Mao said with a roll of his eyes that Ritsu could probably sense a mile away. “You know, it wouldn’t be that hard to just- _ah.”_

Mao’s right hand jerked backwards as a sharp, sudden pain sank into his left, and the knife he’d been using fell onto the chopping board with a faint clatter. A deep shade of red oozed from the cut in his finger, staining his knuckles and the board with its unforgiving hue. _Fuck._ Mao quickly stepped backwards, away from the counter and the food. He was no expert, but however he’d sliced his finger, the digit was bleeding a _lot-_ far more than it should be. 

Cupping his cut hand with a palm to keep blood from dripping into the floor, Mao turned to the counter opposite. “Ritsu, could you get me a- Ritsu?”

Somewhere between Mao speaking and him damn near taking his own finger off, Ritsu had gotten off the counter, now standing on his own two feet in front of it. He looked completely frozen, facing Mao as if he’d been struck with a sudden paralysis- except his chest was still minutely moving up and down, and his fingers were trembling in the slightest.

Mao frowned. “Ritsu?” he repeated, but the boy in question didn’t make a sound. He didn’t move an inch in response, only staring straight at Mao- no, not at _Mao,_ but rather at Mao’s finger.

More specifically, at the blood flowing from his cut.

 _Oh. Oh, no._ “Ritsu,” Mao said slowly, carefully, keeping his gaze firm and level to Ritsu’s. It was as if the latter couldn’t hear him at all, and when Mao moved his finger as little as a centimetre higher in the air, Ritsu’s gaze followed. His lips were slightly parted, a hint of fangs peeking out from behind them, and as Mao watched, a thin line of drool escaped the corner of Ritsu’s mouth. Ritsu didn’t seem to notice- his eyes were wide and his pupils fully dilated, zeroing in on the liquid seeping from Mao’s finger in what was now a steady crimson stream.

Mao’s heartbeat was in his ears, body tense and thrumming with a familiar feeling, yet a feeling he rarely ever experienced around Ritsu- _fear._ The wound was beginning to gush, and Mao really should be getting a bandage on it right about now, but he got the uncanny feeling that if he made a single wrong move, he’d be pounced on and devoured. His fight or flight response was kicking in, every cell in his body screaming at him to _move_ even as he stayed completely, utterly still. In the face of a predator he’d never truly seen as one, Mao had never felt more like a rabbit before a lion- or, well, a vampire- in his entire life.

Blood dripped from his finger onto the white, tiled floors, bringing with it the gentle, deceptive melody of raindrops pattering against the ground. Ritsu made a strangled sort of sound, high and broken in his throat, a full-body shudder tearing through him before Mao’s very eyes. His breathing had begun to quicken, getting visibly shallower and sharper with each breath, and Mao watched helplessly immobile as Ritsu’s eyes seemed to glaze over, scarlet pools nearly blank as they bore into Mao. He was properly _salivating,_ now, fangs fully out and on display, nails digging into pale, slightly shaking palms, and if the smell of blood was tangy and overly distinct to Mao it was _definitely_ worse for Ritsu. _Say something, call him back,_ Mao thought to himself desperately, but his terrified mind and lips refused to cooperate. _Ritsu-_

There was a sudden whirl of movement, and Mao flinched, feet stumbling backwards and eyes instinctively squeezing shut. He braced himself, waiting for the moment warmth seared itself into his wrists and throat like a brand and fangs sank into skin-

But it didn’t come.

Slowly, tentatively, Mao cracked his eyes open. There was Ritsu, body still as rigid yet borderline trembling as it’d been before- except he was now at least a metre away, standing by the kitchen doorway. His grip on the doorframe was white-knuckled, and he had his other hand clamped tight over his mouth- no, his nose. _Blocking out the smell,_ Mao’s mind dimly registered, as Ritsu took one step backwards, then another. And then he was turning heel and fleeing the room, once-silent footsteps thudding up the house’s staircase in clear haste. Somewhere upstairs, a door creaked noisily open before it was slammed shut again in seconds, and just like that, Mao could breathe again. 

_That… was quite something._ Mao had seen Ritsu affected by blood before, sure, but never to this extent. He’d never looked so close to losing control, never looked so openly and obviously hungering for a taste. Mao huffed a breath as he kicked himself into medic mode, making his way over the cabinet he knew housed first aid supplies. He tended to his cut, wincing as antiseptic stung the wound, and quickly got a band-aid over it as neatly as possible.

Turning back to his chopping board, Mao picked up the knife and put it in the sink. The tool looked like something out of a crime scene, and there was no way any more carrots were going to be cut up with _that._ Mao would ask Ritsu to finish the job later, he supposed.

 _Ah, Ritsu._ Mao hoped he was alright- he’d probably return to the kitchen in a few minutes, once he sensed that the presence of blood had diminished. Ritsu had mentioned before that he could smell Mao’s blood from the most _ridiculous_ distances- and, honestly, Mao wasn’t entirely sure he was lying about it. There had been times where Mao had gotten a paper cut in the student council room, and Ritsu had texted him from halfway across the school to ask if he’d gotten hurt.

Mao reached out to switch on the tap, meaning to wash the dirty knife- before halting his movements abruptly. With a cut and bandaged finger, washing things was out of question, and Mao definitely wasn’t going to take his chances with that murderous blade a second time today. (Definitely not one-handed, too.) He couldn’t continue chopping the carrots either, what with the left finger he’d have to use throbbing and aching in pain every so often. That left Mao with approximately zero things to do in the kitchen, unless he had a certain someone by his side.

Now that Mao thought about it, it had already been quite a while since Ritsu had bolted upstairs. Simply sitting and waiting for his boyfriend to make an appearance was a viable option at first glance (first thought?), but with every second that ticked by without Ritsu next to him, the niggling, worrying feeling in Mao’s gut only grew. Something told him that he shouldn’t be leaving Ritsu up there alone, much less when he didn’t know what kind of state he was in.

Making a split second decision, Mao left the kitchen and headed upstairs instead. The house was eerily quiet save the occasional creaking and groaning of the staircase beneath his feet, and Mao quickened his pace. Arriving at Ritsu’s bedroom down the hallway of the second floor, his legs bringing him to the familiar location like clockwork, Mao raised a fist and knocked twice on the door. 

Only silence greeted him.

“Ritsu?” Mao called out, knocking again. “Ritsu, hey. You in there?”

There wasn’t a single sound in reply, and Mao’s chest tightened. “Ritsu, I’m worried. At least say something, please?”

Nothing, nothing. _Fuck it._ “I’m coming in,” Mao said through the door, before turning the knob (a faint _click_ emitting from the mechanism) and slowly pushing the door open.

It was never difficult to find Ritsu when he was holed up in his room- all Mao had to do was look to whatever vaguely human-shaped lump there was hiding in some dark hued duvet, and that was probably the person he was searching for. “Ritsu,” Mao said softly as he walked towards the bed, and the shape huddled beneath the blankets stiffened at his approach. “Ritchan, is everything okay?”

There was the sound of rustling sheets, and if anything, it looked as if Ritsu had curled up even tighter into himself beneath the covers. “Go away, Maa-kun.”

 _Nope, not a chance._ “I’m not going anywhere,” Mao said, sitting down cross-legged on the mattress next to his blanketed boyfriend. “Actually, could I come in? I’d rather be with you than… be out here.”

For a brief few moments, all Mao could hear from the motionless lump of sheets was the sound of faint breathing. Then finally, _finally,_ there was some shifting and movement, and Ritsu was sitting up a little, covers sliding off his head. His eyes didn’t meet Mao’s as he scooted backward towards the wall, away from Mao, sitting in a way where his legs were tucked up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around his knees. The blanket enveloped his form like a cape, and while the situation seemed serious, all Mao could think of was _cute cute cute._

The distance between them both was foreign, however. Strange. “Ritsu, can I-”

“No,” Ritsu interrupted, and Mao blinked in surprise. It was rare for Ritsu to reject his advances so outwardly- if anything, Ritsu was usually the one _initiating_ said advances. Ritsu didn’t elaborate on his refusal, simply keeping his gaze fixed to his knees and inching even further away from Mao, if possible.

 _He doesn’t want to be around me._ It was as if Mao’s world was shattering, slowly but surely, with that single realisation, pieces of (sharp, sharp) glass raining down around him and piercing into his skin, his neck, his heart. _Not him, not Ritsu._ Mao couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t bear for him to sit so far away, to curl up into himself so timidly like that, to look so painstakingly lonely and forlorn, like he was the only person alive in his own little bubble of a world. Mao heard his own words come out terse, urgent. “Ritsu. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Ritsu didn’t lift his gaze. He looked a little like he was going to cry, really- his lips curved downwards in a way that told Mao he was truly troubled about something, rather than just trying to look cute to get what he wanted, and his hands were clenched into trembling fists at his sides. Not the angry kind, but the painful, frustrated kind, the kind that left crescent indents in skin afterwards. (The kind that Mao was all too familiar with, himself.)

There still wasn’t a word from Ritsu, and Mao needed _something_ from him, _anything._ He felt his own throat closing up in anxiety, his entire body itching to get closer, to close the gap between them and touch and hold and make sure Ritsu was _okay._ “Ritsu, _please-”_

“You got hurt.”

Ritsu spoke in a small, tight voice, like something had closed around his throat and was squeezing, squeezing. The three-word statement was directed at his socked feet, and Mao hadn’t felt the need to find and look into the scarlet eyes he _knew_ were there so badly in his entire life.

 _Patience, patience._ He took a shuddering breath, exhaled, and spoke. “I get hurt all the time, Ritchan. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. And I’m fine, it was just a little cut, so-”

“You got hurt, and _I didn’t do anything,”_ Ritsu spat, his tone tremulous yet raw and on edge all the same. “I just- you were bleeding and I just _stood_ there. I stood there and watched, I couldn’t even-” his fingers curled tightly into the sheets beneath him, and there was enough force behind the action that Mao thought the fabric might tear. “I looked at you like you were _food,_ or something, like I- fuck, I could’ve _bitten_ you.” Ritsu’s head jerked upwards suddenly, eyes wide and glassy and focusing on _something-_ something on Mao, just around-

 _My throat?_ Mao tentatively reached up to check, and the skin there was smooth and unmarked as could be. Was Ritsu afraid he’d unconsciously bitten Mao in the neck, or something? “It’s _fine,_ Ritsu,” Mao said gently, letting his hand fall back onto his lap, and oh, what he’d give to be right next to Ritsu right now, or to have his arms around him- that’d make convincing the vampire of his own innocence far easier than it was when they were apart. “You did well keeping yourself in check as it was. I really thought you were going to maul me for a second, back there.” He laughed, meaning it as a joke, maybe to lighten the mood a little- but it didn’t seem to have the same effect on Ritsu. The latter’s eyes were fixed on his knees again, teeth biting into his bottom lip, and as he watched, Mao caught a glimpse of a fang digging into light pink turned red. _Not good._

Alright, keeping his distance be damned. _“Ritsu,”_ Mao said, leaning forwards and grabbing Ritsu’s hands in his. Ritsu’s breath hitched, eyes wide and looking at Mao with something Mao couldn’t quite place for a moment, before they were turning downcast once more and Ritsu was angling his body away, trying to tug his hands from Mao’s grip. Mao held fast, determined not to let him go in the slightest. “Ritsu, It’s completely alright, you hear me? What you did- it was a natural reaction, right? So it’s fine. You couldn’t control it- actually, you _did_ control it. You ran _away_ from me instead of towards me. You didn’t come close to hurting me at all.”

Ritsu shook his head, quickly. His body was remarkably tense, coiled like a wire waiting to snap. “That’s still a problem. One day, you might get seriously hurt, and I-” he still wasn’t looking at Mao, and Mao got the sudden, forceful urge to _make_ him, to shake all this rubbish and self-deprecation out of him and make him believe that he was just _fine_ the way he was, that there wasn’t anything Mao would change about him for the world. “If I don’t do anything to help, I’ll really just be...”

 _A monster._ Mao knew exactly what was running through Ritsu’s mind, had heard the word spat from his lips with contempt countless times before. “Stop that,” Mao said roughly, and he felt Ritsu freeze in place beneath his touch immediately. _Ah, fuck._ Mao loosened his grip slightly, forced a slow, shaking breath through his lungs. “Look. Ritsu-” he softened his tone the best he could- “we’ve been through this before. You reacting to this kind of stuff differently from others doesn’t make you any less of a person.” Mao ached to reach out and cup Ritsu’s jaw, to run a thumb over his cheek, just _something,_ to give some form of reassurance- but he was probably already pushing it enough already, with Ritsu’s hands in his despite the way Ritsu hadn’t wanted contact. _Come on, come on._ “Human, vampire- it’s all the same thing. You’re _Sakuma Ritsu,_ no matter what.”

Mao gave Ritsu’s hands a small squeeze. It was far from enough, but it was all he had. “You’re Ritsu. And that’s all you have to be, okay? So it’s fine. You don’t have to come running every time I get hurt, Ritchan- I know how to handle myself, too.”

There was a small nod towards the sheets, and Mao sighed. “Do you understand, Ritsu.”

“Mm.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Mao took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs and counting from one to ten as slowly as he could manage. Then he exhaled, equally as slowly. He’d just climbed out of treacherous waters, made it to the port against all odds- the both of them had, really- and yet here he was, about to jump right into the deep end again. “Okay. If that’s so, then why are you still not looking at me?”

Ritsu jolted, and even if he’d relaxed somewhat while Mao was talking to him, his body went as taut as it had been before in seconds. His breathing grew quick and laboured, all of a sudden, fingers curling into fists and then he was trying to break free of Mao’s grip even harder than before, pulling and even kicking out at Mao when Mao refused to let go. “Wh- _Ritsu,”_ Mao got out as he dodged a poorly aimed foot, hanging onto Ritsu’s wrists by the figurative thread. “Ritsu, what’s going- _Ritchan-”_

“Let _go,”_ Ritsu shrieked, and out of sheer instinct and surprise, Mao obeyed. Ritsu snatched his hands away the moment he was able to, and then he was pressing himself back against the wall, dragging his blanket over himself like he was trying to shield himself from something. “Go away,” he muttered, curling into himself and pulling the covers all the way up to his nose. It was as if he was in his own personal cocoon, and he spoke into the covers held together with trembling hands as if they would give him a reply. “Leave, Maa-kun, _please,_ you have to get out, just leave and-”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Mao cut in, because he sure as hell wasn’t. Ritsu’s words were muffled by the sheets tugged over his mouth, but Mao got the gist of his words regardless. He moved swiftly forwards, kneeling before Ritsu, and his heart squeezed near painfully because something was _wrong_ and Ritsu was being stubborn and obstinate and (most likely) selfless in not telling Mao what it was. “Just _talk_ to me, Ritsu, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s-”

“You _can’t_ help,” Ritsu shouted, and then he was scrambling to his feet, head turned firmly away from Mao as he stumbled out of bed, blanket dragging half-heartedly behind him. Mao grabbed ahold of whatever fabric he could and _pulled_ as he hurriedly got to his feet to follow, and then Ritsu was tumbling ever so slightly backwards, and Mao was grabbing at his shoulders to steady him and turn him around so he could look him in the face for the first time in what felt like _hours,_ and-

Ritsu’s fangs were completely out.

They’d been covered by downturned lips and fluffy blankets mere moments before, but now, with the blanket having fallen to the floor and Ritsu’s lips parted in shock of nearly falling to the floor himself, his razor-sharp canines were fully on display. Mao felt his eyes widen and he took an instinctive step back, but while his hands trembled against Ritsu’s shoulders he didn’t let go. Because Ritsu’s eyes were as wide as Mao’s had to be and he looked nothing short of _terrified,_ fear materialised from pure scarlet staring straight into Mao, never mind the way their roles might stereotypically be reversed. Ritsu’s gaze suddenly shifted, then, just a few inches down, and _oh._

“You’re hungry,” Mao said in what felt like a daze, the intensity with which Ritsu’s dilated pupils bore into what had to be the prominent, beating pulse in Mao’s neck somewhat dizzying. “You need-” _blood._ Ritsu had probably been starving for it since Mao had gotten cut in the kitchen, the scent of _so much of it_ awakening whatever parts of him that craved the rich substance for himself. Mao swallowed past the lump in his throat, and his grip unconsciously tightened on Ritsu. “Isn’t there blood in the fridge? I’ll get some for you, you can just-”

“We’re all out,” Ritsu said, sounding strained. “We’re supposed to be getting more in a few days, and we hadn’t expected to need it until next week, earliest, so...” he pried Mao’s hands off himself and pushed him away, taking a few shaky steps backwards. “You need to go. Leave.” Ritsu spoke quickly, urgently, some words slurred together or overly pronounced as he made an effort to speak around his fangs. “If not, I might-” _bite you._ “Just you being here, in the same room, is...”

Ritsu looked away again, fists trembling at his sides, and _fuck_ this was why he’d been avoiding looking at Mao or being near him this entire time. He probably knew where exactly his gaze would stick to- Mao’s wrists, Mao’s throat, maybe even his bandaged finger- and knew that focusing on such areas would only aggravate his thirst even more. Worse still, if what Ritsu was saying was true, that simply being in the same _room_ as Mao was torturous, then surely being in close quarters with him would be worse, the scent of blood closer and more distinct. Mao wanted to kick himself- the vampire had been keeping his distance for a _reason,_ and Mao had ignored the signs and closed that distance regardless. He’d unknowingly made the situation far worse than it already was, despite only trying to fix it.

“Maa-kun, _please,”_ Ritsu begged, every syllable laced with clear desperation. “Get out, just- go away. If not, then _I’ll_ go.” He began to move, quickly, obviously keeping himself from looking at Mao as he passed him on his way to the door, arms pressed close enough to his own sides that they didn’t even brush sleeves.

 _No._ Mao’s body leapt into action before his brain could even catch up, darting forwards and grabbing Ritsu’s wrist to hold him back. _“Ritsu,”_ he said, heart jumping and thudding in his chest like he’d just run a marathon. He could feel Ritsu’s pulse beneath his fingers, and it felt more or less the same. “Ritsu, drink from me.”

Ritsu’s head snapped around to look at Mao, eyes wide and disbelieving. Mao wasn’t quite sure he believed his own words, himself- it was as if his mouth had moved without his brain’s say-so in an instant. Not that his brain could come up with any better solution, he supposed. Mao was a rational guy (or so he liked to think), and even as he racked his brain for any other ideas as Ritsu gaped at him in surprise, this was the best option he could think of.

“You just need to- fix your thirst, right? You have to feed, so...” Mao forced a slow, shaky, exhale, trying to _keep calm, keep calm_ because if Ritsu was going to take him up on his offer, he sure as hell was going to have to be the calm one in this situation. “Just- bite me, or whatever. Then it’ll be-”

“No.”

Mao blinked, staring at Ritsu. Ritsu’s gaze shifted from Mao’s neck to his wrists, back to his neck for another split second before wrenching itself up to his eyes in a way that looked like he was using physical effort to do it. “No?”

“No,” Ritsu said breathlessly, shaking his head so quickly Mao worried, for a brief second, that his head was going to come off. “I can’t- you’re insane. No. You don’t even-” his breath came in a shudder through his parted lips, and then he was pulling away from Mao for the nth time this evening, shaking his head some more. “You _hate_ sharp things. And that’s my fault to begin with, I’m not going to bite you just because- just _no,_ okay? I’ll call Anija, or something, and we can-”

“Rei isn’t going to be home for hours. UNDEAD concerts go on till three or four in the morning, you _know_ that,” Mao interrupted. For all of Ritsu’s always asking Mao for blood, to let him bite him, it seemed that when actually faced with the prospect of it, he was more than unwilling. “And you can’t pull him back home just for this, either. The easiest, quickest way to solve this is to bite me. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Sure, the very idea of Ritsu’s fangs going anywhere _near_ his neck made Mao beyond uneasy, made him want to abandon all thought and logic and _run,_ but desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d rather face all the pain and discomfort in the world than let even an inch of it get to Ritsu. Mao would get over getting bitten, but Ritsu wouldn’t be able to get over not getting blood. Ritsu was faintly panting, now, chest rising and falling far too quickly for Mao’s liking, and he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand every so often, a telltale sign that he was drooling again, needing to taste and to _drink_ but being denied what was standing right before his very eyes. Despite trying to maintain eye contact, Ritsu’s gaze flitted between Mao’s face and his pulse points every so often, like the scent and sound of coursing blood was calling to him, like he couldn’t keep even where he was looking in check.

Mao would be a fool to leave him in this state. Not only was it hell for Ritsu, but it was also practically suicide for any well-meaning passerby who might come to call on the Sakuma household. Mao was pretty sure that if it were anyone else but himself in this room with Ritsu, the latter would have jumped them by now, or forcefully removed himself from the premises without any thought for explanation or mutual understanding. But right now, because it was Mao...

Ritsu was denying himself, going against every natural instinct he had, all for Mao’s sake. His hands shook and trembled but stayed glued to his sides, his fangs protruded and glinted dangerously beneath the lights of the room but he didn’t make a single move. He kept as still as humanly possible, and it was clearly taking monumental levels of effort and self-control to do so. And so, in return, if it was for Ritsu...

“It’s _fine,_ Ritchan,” Mao repeated, taking a careful step forward. “I wouldn’t let you do something I’m seriously uncomfortable with, you know? It’ll be okay. Really.” He reached out a tentative hand, and Ritsu flinched. Mao kept his hand outstretched, palm up in a sort of offering, and he’d have to be blind to miss the way Ritsu’s eyes zeroed in on the greenish veins in his wrist. “I’ll tell you right away if I need you to stop, or anything. It’s not a big deal, Ritsu.”

Ritsu shook his head, looking dazed, but his gaze stayed fixed on Mao’s wrist. Mao was chipping away at his defences, that much was clear- not that Ritsu’s defences were particularly high in the first place. If anything, being this desperate and vulnerable left him utterly defenceless, and Mao was sure that were he a little different, a little more sadistic, he could ask Ritsu for _anything_ in exchange for giving him blood, and Ritsu would comply.

Mao wasn’t a complete asshole, however, so he didn’t. (Nothing against people who’d ruthlessly exploit their childhood friends in times of need to get what they wanted, but Mao wasn’t like that. Probably.) “Come on, Ritchan.”

“I-” Ritsu’s mouth shaped some words, but no sound came out. “I- I can find someone- something else-”

“I’m _right here,_ Ritsu,” Mao said, and _fuck it_ he was going on the offensive. He stepped forwards and grabbed Ritsu’s hands in his, pulling him flush to his own body. A sound of surprise left Ritsu’s throat as he stumbled into Mao, eyes wide, and suddenly his lips were parting in a soft gasp and his gaze was directly on the side of Mao’s neck. The sight of Ritsu’s fangs in such close proximity made Mao’s mouth go dry, but he hastily swallowed and shoved the feeling away before guiding Ritsu to the bed. He sat them both down on the edge of it, Ritsu’s eyes not leaving Mao’s neck _once,_ and Mao was truly, genuinely impressed that he’d held out from biting Mao for this long.

“Okay.” Mao took a slow, hopefully steady breath, then released it. “Neck or wrist?”

The answer was blatantly obvious, but Mao figured he should ask, anyway. “Neck is better,” Ritsu mumbled, eyes nearly glazed over. “But if you don’t want to-”

“Neck it is, then,” Mao said, because if this was going to happen, he wasn’t going to do it halfway. “C’mon, get over here.”

Ritsu obeyed, movements jerky and hesitant despite the urgency Mao could sense exuding from every inch of his body. They ended up with Ritsu straddling Mao’s lap, knees pressed against the mattress as one of his trembling palms cupped Mao’s cheek and the other gripped his shoulder. Ritsu’s breaths were coming even faster than before, now, each one sending tremors through his entire body. “Hey,” Mao said softly, sounding _way_ more calm than he actually felt, and Ritsu’s eyes immediately snapped towards him. “It’s fine, remember? Just go for it. Bite.”

Mao wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Ritsu look this nervous in his _life._ “You don’t like sharp things,” Ritsu said almost helplessly, even though he was already in Mao’s lap with his hands angling his head and his fangs mere centimetres away from his throat. As if anything he said was going to make Mao back out now. As if Mao wouldn’t rather let himself be pierced by a thousand needles than let Ritsu go through another second of whatever the hell he was feeling right now.

“I’ll get over it. Who knows, maybe you biting me will completely cure me of that phobia,” Mao replied, trying for a joking sort of tone. Ritsu didn’t laugh or even smile- his gaze was back on the pulse beneath Mao’s skin, his aura radiating nothing but pure _need,_ and Mao knew that they were running out of time. “I trust you, Ritsu. Now, hurry up and _bite.”_

Ritsu’s grip on him tightened, and then Mao’s head was being tilted to the side and slightly backwards, giving Mao a good view of the ceiling lamps and not much else. Anxiety sparked in his throat at the feeling of being completely at a vampire’s mercy, of not being able to even _see_ what was happening, but he quickly stifled it the best he could- this was Ritsu, after all. Mao wasn’t lying when he said he trusted him.

Breaths came quick and hot against the column of Mao’s throat, and Mao shivered. “Last chance to back out,” came a thick, vaguely muffled voice, and Ritsu had probably given up on trying to keep his fangs at an appropriate size or length now that Mao was looking away, if they were hindering his words like that. Mao huffed a breath, because really, the anticipation of what Ritsu was going to do was killing him more than anything.

“I’m not backing out. Just do it, Ritsu.”

There was a soft, wet sound, like Ritsu was licking his lips, and that was all of a warning Mao got. A sudden, sharp pain pierced his neck as dual incisors sank into his skin, and Mao gasped, feeling his body give an instinctive jolt. The fingers against his jaw and shoulders seemed to dig into him with renewed force, keeping him firmly in place as Ritsu’s lips pressed to his neck. There were the sounds of faint sucking and slurping, then, warmth spreading from his throat area to every inch of his body, and _oh,_ that felt good, _really_ good.

The pain from the bite faded into nothing but a dull ache, and Mao’s senses seemed to cloud over, his mind in a hazy dream. His body felt light, nearly weightless as a gentle sort of pleasure flooded through him, dancing and caressing like a moonlit tide against the shore. He heard a soft moan from somewhere in his vicinity, and he knew exactly who it belonged to, wouldn’t mistake its owner for anyone else in the world- did Mao’s blood taste _that good,_ for Ritsu to react like that?

Well, no matter. It wasn’t as if Mao was one to talk, given that he was currently floating on a sea of clouds, vision a light and tender multicolour, everything merging together in the best possible way. He wasn’t even sure his eyes were open anymore, actually. Maybe they were, and maybe they weren’t. Mao couldn’t really bring himself to care, right now- all that mattered was this feeling, this insistently perfect feeling, one he never, _ever_ wanted to let go of-

And then it was over.

Mao’s eyes blinked slowly open, the world far less blurry and prettily coloured than it had been before. _Ah_. He was wrong, on at least one count- the world was even _prettier_ now, what with a pair of bright, scarlet eyes looking straight into his more boring, ordinary green ones. Huh. Those eyes looked sort of worried, actually.

“Maa-kun?” The voice came soft and somewhat uncertain, and Mao blinked once, twice, thrice. He was lying with his head on someone’s lap, he gathered, and now that he was slowly separating reality from that glorious, vampire-induced heaven he’d been experiencing, the slight ache in his neck was back, threatening to sting as he reached up with two fingers to touch. He felt two tiny puncture holes, ones so small he might not have noticed had he not been searching for them, and as he kept his fingers over them, they seemed to shrink even further.

“Give it a few minutes, and they’ll be completely gone,” Ritsu said from above him, and Mao blinked up at him. He felt a little groggy, disoriented, but on the whole, it wasn’t bad at all. Ritsu, _Ritsu_ looked- well-

He looked pretty damned gorgeous, to say the least. His cheeks were rosy and his skin had lost some of its trademark paleness, making him seem brighter, healthier. His eyes were fully open and carrying an active glint rather than their lids drooping and threatening to fall shut every moment, and he looked more awake and alert than Mao had ever seen him. Those once-protruding fangs had retracted neatly back into his gums, a sign that Ritsu’s hunger had been satiated. All in all...

“That went- better than expected,” Mao said, and Ritsu’s anxious expression lit up in a genuine smile. Suddenly Mao was being lifted, hands careful yet confident against his back and sitting him upright, legs straddling Ritsu’s hips. A sort of role-reversal from their positions before, Mao realised, and from the way Ritsu was grinning at him, that was likely the latter’s intention.

Without a single word, Ritsu threw his arms around Mao and hugged him. A faint _oof_ left Mao’s lips as Ritsu nearly squeezed the life out of him, body swaying lightly from side to side as he nuzzled his nose into Mao’s hair. Mao laughed, slowly reaching around to hug Ritsu back, the material of his white sweater soft beneath Mao’s fingers. “So, how’d I taste?”

Ritsu pulled back to look at him, and as Mao watched he caught a giddy, carefree sort of happiness in his eyes. “Sweet,” Ritsu breathed, pink dusting his cheeks even as he smiled so wide he left dimples there. “You taste so, so, sweet.” He leaned in to pepper kisses over Mao’s cheeks, his jaw, his throat, and Mao yelped in surprise, warmth rising to his own cheeks in response.

When Ritsu pulled away a second time, his lips were still quirked upwards in a gentle smile, but there was concern there, too. “You’re feeling okay, right?” he asked, fingers feathering over Mao, touching his cheeks, his neck, his wrists, his forehead. “I didn’t take too much? I stopped before your limit, but still- are you feeling lightheaded, or anything?” It was a little strange, having Ritsu fuss over him like this, when their roles were usually reversed. “I sealed the wound on your neck with my saliva, too, so that shouldn’t be giving you any problems, but if you feel anything off in the slightest, you’ve got to tell me, so I can-”

“Ritsu,” Mao interrupted, and the older fell silent immediately, looking worried. Mao felt himself smile, and he reached out a hand to run a thumb over Ritsu’s soft, plush lips. Lips that had previously been dug into with sharpness and fangs, but were now pink and unmarked as ever. “I’m fine, okay? I feel great, actually.” That wasn’t a lie- somewhere between getting his blood sucked by his boyfriend and getting hugged by said boyfriend near-immediately after, Mao’s physical state felt like it had skyrocketed. Weird. It was probably a vampire thing. (That, and the strange, borderline hallucinatory, on-cloud-nine feeling getting drank from had brought him, the feeling Mao was determinedly _not_ going to think about. God, he hoped Ritsu hadn’t injected him with some long-lasting aphrodisiac, or something.)

“Are you sure?” Ritsu spoke against Mao’s finger resting lightly over his bottom lip, and when Mao nodded, Ritsu gave a soft hum in response, tilting his head to press a kiss to his thumb. Mao’s heart felt a little like it was going to beat right out of his chest with sheer affection, but that was a relatively common occurrence when it came to Ritsu, so it was fine.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Mao said softly, one hand reaching up to card through Ritsu’s hair as the other gently cupped his cheek. “But next time, just _tell_ me what’s wrong, okay? I know you’d rather people not know when you need to feed, but sometimes it’s kind of inevitable. You don’t have to hide it from me, anyways. If you need blood, just tell me, and we’ll figure something out.”

Ritsu grinned at him, looking a little like a satisfied Cheshire but ten times as cute. “Does this mean I get to drink from you more?”

 _Ten times as cheeky, too._ “As if you weren’t completely freaking out at just the _idea_ of drinking from me,” Mao scoffed, giving Ritsu a light poke in the cheek. Ritsu batted his hand away, blush tinting his skin as he deliberately turned his focus away from Mao. “I thought you were going to cry, seriously-”

“Shut _up,_ Maa-kun, I care for your well-being and this is what I get,” Ritsu groaned, wrapping his arms around Mao’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Mao, for once, didn’t stiffen at the prospect of having Ritsu’s lips (and potentially fangs) so near to his throat. Huh. Maybe getting bitten _did_ numb him to his aversion to sharp things.

Mao thought of knives, then. And paper corners, and wooden splinters, and razor blades. He felt himself cringe internally, and his mind went, _never mind, maybe not._

“Thank you,” Ritsu said suddenly, and Mao blinked at the words being muffled against his neck. It wasn’t as if Ritsu never expressed gratitude for anything, but he rarely did so with such… open genuineness, Mao supposed. “I- I know that was a lot for you. But you stuck with it, stuck with _me,_ so…” There was a brief, chaste press of lips against the side of Mao’s neck, just around where he’d been bitten. “Thank you, Maa-kun.”

Mao smiled, because _I love you I love you I love you_ and the answer to that was a no-brainer, really. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Ritsu’s head in response, wrapping an arm around him to hold him closer, closer. “Anytime, Ritchan.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what this is how did it end up so many words wggggggsdfdhkhsdjkghkshdf


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